


(never) let me go

by sereneguillotines



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sereneguillotines/pseuds/sereneguillotines
Summary: George shakily brings his hands to his knees, palms facing the sky–or rather, he attempts to. His right-hand catches and George hisses in pain as something digs into his wrist. He tries to pull harder, but it doesn’t give. He looks down and–It’s a handcuff.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 97





	(never) let me go

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this is a work of fiction based off the characters the streamers play in the dsmp and takes place in a minecraft-esque world. just as a heads up, this work will include/includes manipulation (& other toxic behaviours).
> 
> with all that now out of the way, please enjoy the fic! the entire thing is outlined already and i’m aiming for around 30k words, so if you like it, stick around :]
> 
> bonus thanks to the lovely [@/nbrfve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NBRFVE) for looking over my work! <3

George wakes up shivering.

He doesn’t remember the last time he woke up this cold.

A faint headache greets him as he blearily blinks himself awake, palms braced against the cool stone floor in an attempt to push himself into an upright position. Blank and silent faces of stone stare back at him, the foreigner. A single, flickering torch provides some light in the small, square room, but it does little to chase away the foreboding and looming greyness.

It's certainly a far cry from his usual spruce walls and blue woolen blankets. 

At least it’s clean, he supposes.

George’s only flare of hope is the door directly across from where he is. He stares at the rectangle of salvation a mere four blocks away, but alas, here he is on the other side of the room with his arse sore and freezing.

The fluttering pitter-patter of his heartbeat quickens to a limping trot as he presses his back flush against the wall. George wracks his brain– _how did he end up here?_ The last thing he remembers before waking up is the sound of breaking glass and the smell of something putrid. A potion must have knocked him out.

The room suddenly seems smaller than it is, constricting itself around George like a python looking to kill. He tries to calm down, squeezing his eyes shut and drawing his knees up to his chest, thinking back to the breathing exercises someone dear to him once taught him. That someone had held George’s hands while counting out loud, large tan hands enveloping slim pale hands in a moment of suspended time.

George shakily brings his hands to his knees, palms facing the sky–or rather, he attempts to. His right-hand catches and George hisses in pain as something digs into his wrist. He tries to pull harder, but it doesn’t give. He looks down and–

It’s a handcuff.

A solid iron cuff around his wrist connected to a sturdy chain restrains him to the wall. The chain is attached to a little U-shaped piece of iron sticking out of the wall. The U-shape piece is to the right of him, located right where the wall meets the floor. He turns towards it, alternating between kicking and stepping on the protruding shape, but like the chain, it doesn’t give. He tries to catch his breath as he tugs on the chain again, testing its length. If he had to guess, it’s approximately less than a block long, meaning the chain is too short for him to stand up.

_He’s stuck._

Then, the fear sets in. It eats up George's bones from the inside and worms its way through every pore of his body. The breathing exercises he tried to recall just moments before have dissipated out of his reach, leaving his mind empty. His breath quickens, his vision tunnels, _this can't be possible._ He pinches himself in vain. He wants to wake up from this nightmare, but alas, this bleak reality is undeniable–he's stuck in a _prison cell_ in God-knows-where, all alone.

_Alone_ –That’s the worst part.

Foolishly, he wishes Sapnap was here. Stupidly headstrong Sapnap with his stupid headband and his stupid single earring–the e-boy aesthetic is endearing on Sapnap and Sapnap only. He'd tell George, _don’t worry, we'll make it out,_ wrapping George in a tight hug, the kind that warms George to the core and makes George feel at home. They’d cling together, two figures alone on a small ship, the gentle waves guiding them to shore and safety.

His breaths even out, not yet steady in-and-outs, but certainly a drastic improvement from moments earlier.

That is until he hears the whining creak of the opening door.

In George’s panic, he had failed to hear the reverbing footfalls outside his room, gradually getting louder and louder. The sound of the door was an unwelcome jerk back to reality, tearing the fleeting fantasy of safety away from him.

He lifts his head to look at the intrusion and winces as the hallway light floods into his cell. A figure clad in a piss-yellow hoodie looms before George, the bright light creating a halo of sorts around the tall silhouette. It takes a few moments for his eyes to properly adjust, squinting in an attempt to see who exactly just came in. He makes out what seems to be a white mask with a disconcertingly empty smiley face on it. The smiley face consists of two dots for a pair of eyes and a curved wobbly line for a mouth.

_Creepy._

The figure speaks. “I figured you’d be awake by now” It sounds pleased.

George manages to bite back, “Who the fuck are you?”

The figure laughs, “I’m Dream.”

“What kind of name is that?”

He shrugs, blank smiley face looking down at George. The stench of stale awkwardness lingers, prolonged as the figure, apparently called “Dream”, pushes the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows and closes the door behind him.

George frowns. “Your jumper is ugly. In what world is piss-yellow is a good colour?”

He thinks he can hear a confused frown in Dream’s voice in response. “My hoodie is green.”

“Oh.” A beat. He feels a bit foolish but blusters on anyway, “Still an eyesore.”

Dream shrugs again.

Setting the topic of the ugly sweatshirt aside, George presses on, “Where am I? Let me out of this fucking cell!”

“I’m sure you have a lot more questions. I’m just checking in on you to make sure you’re alright for now.” Dream’s placating tone makes George want to lash out and kick him. _No shit,_ of course he has a lot more questions. In a fonder tone, Dream adds, “I’m so glad you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting a long time to have you.”

Then, he turns to leave.

George scrambles onto his knees, “No, no, don’t leave! What do you mean by “have me”? _Fuck,_ come back! How do you even know me? Answer my damn questions! You can’t just–Don’t leave!”

“Don’t worry, George. I’ll be back soon.” The arsehole _waves_ before shutting the door behind him.

George lets out a cry of frustration. That conversation was infuriatingly cryptic. Dream refused to answer any of George’s questions, other than telling George his name. Playing the conversation back in his head, Dream had mentioned waiting a long time to “have” George. Even stranger, seeing as George has no recollection of ever meeting Dream, nor ever meeting anyone who’s sounded like Dream. Nor anyone with such a nasty-coloured sweatshirt.

George curls in on himself. Why, why does Dream want _him_? Out of everyone at home, he’d generally stayed under the radar and minded his own business. He likes to think that he was kind enough to the people around him, never causing much trouble unless he got roped into one of Sapnap’s schemes.

What about him caught Dream’s eye? He’s just George.

The last few hours have been too much, far too much for him to handle. His fantasies offer no reprise–no breathing exercises nor thoughts of Sapnap can help him now. All he feels is cold emptiness and faint dampness on his cheeks. Tiredness winning over his brain, he shifts into a lying position, curled up in a fetal position in an attempt to conserve body heat.

Sapnap better remember to feed Beckerson. He should know where George keeps the fish food.

-

When George comes to, he sees a figure just out of his range of vision. George twists his body and sits up, only to see Dream sitting on the floor, crossed legged, and watching him. He hadn’t heard the other man come in–He must’ve dozed off despite the shitty situation.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“Yes.”

George’s eyes narrow, “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope.”

He huffs in response to Dream’s answer–he can practically hear the grin in the other man’s voice. 

“I’ve got something for you.” Dream tosses a bottle George’s way. He fumbles and it lands in his lap instead. _It’s water._ George immediately cracks the cap open. It might be spiked for all he knows, but his thirst wins out as he desperately gulps the water down in an attempt to chase away the sandy feeling in his mouth.

George wipes his mouth with the back of his palm as he sets down the now-empty bottle. “So, when are you going to start answering my questions?”

“I just answered a few.”

“My _proper_ questions.”

“Go ahead, ask away, pretty boy.” 

_Pretty boy._ The endearment is ugly and leering. George hates it, but he swallows down his distaste. He needs answers. “Wh–”

Dream cuts him off, “Can’t guarantee a complete answer, but I’ll do my best, just for you.”

“Fine.” Better some answers than none. “Where are we?”

“My house.”

His house that just so happens to have a _prison cell._

George presses, hoping for a more specific answer. “And where is your home located?”

“Far away from your village.” 

Dream isn’t willing to divulge more information about where they are, so George changes the subject and tries a different angle. “Why am I here?”

“‘Cause I like you.”

“That’s a shit answer. Why did you kidnap me?” This question of _why_ has plagued his mind since he first woke up in the damned cell. George’s voice wavers, “I’ve never even seen you before. I’ve never met you, and we’ve never even talked, so _why am I here?_ ”

Dream sighs and scoots over so that he’s pressed flushed against George’s side. “No one appreciated you enough, George. Always forgetting you and leaving you behind.” His voice hardens, “That made me so angry. I was so ready to burn the village to the ground.” Dream’s tone turns sickly sweet, “I would never leave you behind. I would never do anything like that to you.” George flinches as Dream’s hand moves to rest on his thigh. “So I took you.”

“No!” George shoves Dream’s hand off of his thigh. “People cared about me. I was happy, _you monster._ ” He has his friends, and more importantly, he has Sapnap. “You can’t just decide that nobody loves me and then kidnap me!”

His voice rings through the air, pointed statements bouncing off the smooth stone walls.

Then, a beat of unsettling silence.

“So why is no one looking for you?”

George’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach.

He pushes himself further away from the deceitful bastard next to him. The handcuff prevents him from going to the furthest corner of the room, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try to get away as far away from Dream as possible. “You’re lying. _You’re lying._ ”

That can’t be true. There’s no way that can be true. Dream has to be lying.

“I went back to check the village to check if people were searching for you, mainly so I could throw them off, but everything seemed normal.” He shrugs, nonchalant, “No missing posters, no search parties, no village-wide emergency raised, nothing out of the ordinary. It’s like no one realized you’re gone”

A rational part of George reminds him that Dream is lying. Of course, Sapnap would realize that George has gone missing. They had seen each other every day for the last few months, even sharing a bed for a good portion of that time. But, he remembers their final fight–ugly and vindictive. They both said things they shouldn’t have, storming off to their respective homes after the matter. That night, George cried into his pillow, curled pathetically up in his bed, which was far too large with just George in it. He’d desperately missed the heavy warmth of another body next to him. 

He hasn't seen Sapnap since the fight, the both of them too stubborn for their own good and neither wanting to apologize first. But would one fight make Sapnap not care about him anymore? Usually, he’d say no. For how hot-headed he is, Sapnap is equally forgiving. George knows they could move past a single fight. But, at this point, he’s cold, tired, and hungry. His guilt-stricken heart has no room for rational thought.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry.” Dream’s voice takes on a soothing tone as he moves closer to George, carefully wiping away the tears which had unknowingly fallen onto George’s cheeks. He doesn’t pull away from the other man this time. As ashamed as he is to admit it, the reassuring pads of Dream’s fingers feel nice after the unforgiving touch of the stone floor.

In a small voice, he repeats, “People care about me.” He looks up at Dream’s vacant smiley face mask, hesitant, “Right?”

A sad exhale. “I can’t say for anyone else, but _I_ care about you. I promise.”

Defeated, George slumps against the wall. He’s got no one. None of his friends are coming for him. Sapnap isn’t coming for him either.

He’s only got Dream.

A pair of strong arms wrap around him like a cocoon. George unwittingly leans into the impromptu hug, burying his face in that ugly, but surprisingly soft jumper. He notices fingers tenderly carding through his hair, and a stream of gentle nothings murmured to him. A pleasantly surprised exhale tickles the tips of his ears, but he pays it no mind, continuing to rest his head against the comfortable fabric.

They stay there until George lightly dozes off to the sensation of someone warm holding him.

-

He’s shaken out of his stupor after what feels like hours. Brain still foggy, he mumbles something incoherent and gets no response in return. A lock clicks and fresh air hits his previously shackled wrist. Huh. The strong arms that had been wrapped around him all disappear. Thankfully, before George can embarrass himself by involuntarily whining in protest at the sudden lack of contact, the arms scoop him up in a bridal carry with ease.

It’s like he weighs nothing.

Bright light floods his vision as the door opens, so George squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in the crook of Dream’s neck in an attempt to escape. Wait. He’s leaving the cell. Dream is taking him outside his cell.

Dream turns left, footsteps echoing down the long hallway. George counts one right turn and two flights of stairs. Halfway up and Dream isn’t even panting from the exertion of bridal carrying another human being. There’s no way George would be able to outrun him, especially not in the weak state he’s currently in. 

Moments later, Dream gently settles him on a bed. The first thing George notices is that it’s soft, far softer than the stone floor he spent the last few days lying on. He sinks into the large mattress, too busy relishing in the newfound comfort to protest at the familiar click around his wrist. The mattress sheet and pillowcases are a matching sky blue and the blankets a darker blue, like the ocean at sunset. For a fleeting moment, George worries about getting them dirty, but he’s the one that got kidnapped. No way he’s doing the laundry.

“I’ll come back for you soon, alright baby?”

George mutters, “Fuck off.” Face stuck in the impossibly fluffy pillows, his peevish protest comes out garbled, losing the harsh edge he intended.

Dream lets out a fond wheeze in response, waving goodbye to the tune of the closing door.

_Bastard._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ch 1! it’s on the short end, just a little chapter to kick off this fic–pls subscribe if you want to keep updated <3
> 
> find me on twitter [@/mxguillotines](https://twitter.com/mxguillotines) for fic updates and shenanigans!
> 
> as always, fic requests are [here](https://forms.gle/PNF52YBLexnYoXea6) & kudos and comments are much appreciated
> 
> stay swag friends!


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